


water under the bridge (it would be better had it been)

by maridoll



Category: One Piece
Genre: Amnesia, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pirate King Monkey D. Luffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maridoll/pseuds/maridoll
Summary: law wakes up on a boat.besides the searing pain, everything else is a blank.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> as things occur i'll update the tags. i can promise nothing triggering will occur without it showing up in the notes beforehand, if anything as alarming occurs at all. 
> 
> ik the summary isn't really a summary, sorry. i can promise this will be longer, and it will definitely challenge, i guess, fates of characters? different from future canon. so this is an au for sure.
> 
> this is safely set around eight years after the whole cake island arc, for time reference.

When he wakes he knows immediately he’s at sea.

 

It’s dark, and cold, and damp, but there’s that telltale sway, the familiar rocking he’d long since grown used to.

 

He’s sore, and tired, and jarred. Cheek pressed into hard wood. Only one eye open, the other unavailable by what he assumes is swelling. His breathing is tempered. He can twitch all ten of his fingers, but any attempts to move aside that result in a sort of aching pain that makes him quit while he’s ahead, slumping back against the floor, one good eye slipping shut.

 

A sound of rattling keys makes him force it open again, and then there’s a crack of light to his far left. His fingers twitch. Out at sea, beaten up, and in an unknown place. There was a good chance he wasn’t among friendly company, then. As if proving him correct, the light shutters out quickly, a door slamming shut with a _bang_ that makes him wince, and then carefully a second time, the motion pulling at chapped lips and bruised gums.

 

What had he gotten himself into.

 

The rattling sounds again, and a metal hinge groans. Then heavy footsteps sound until he’s dimly aware his one good eye is staring at dark, waxed boots. He blinks.

 

“Oh. So you’re awake.”

 

The voice above is a drawl. He doesn’t recognize it. He can, however, recognize the sheathes of three swords as the boots turn and walk away from his person. His tongue feels swollen in his throat; he doesn’t think he could speak if he wanted to.

 

His leg, however, twitches, sending a shock of pain up his thigh. The breath that leaves him is followed by a sharp inhale, and then one of those shiny boots is slamming down just below his knee, and he’s choking on his next inhale.

 

“Don’t try anything, now. I’m not damn stupid.”

 

Right. Okay. So despite him being obviously inebriated on pain, his captors weren’t fucking around. He attempts to steady his breathing, not quite sure what to do next that wouldn’t get him immediately killed on a whim.

 

Luckily, his captor seems to already have plans in mind. The pressure leaves his leg and footsteps sound by his ears next, and then he’s being bodily hauled up, sitting with his shoulders supported by the man’s weight, and he realizes then that his hands were bound by the wrists in front of him.

 

“Right. So you’re up. Let’s go. You’ve kept us all waiting long enough.”

 

The light returns, then, the door bursting open with a loud “Zoro!” and a stumbling of feet that somehow sends a block of wood rushing past his face, crashing into the wall behind them. After regaining balance, the voice continues. “Oops. Sorry, that’s -oh.”

 

“ _What_ is it, Usopp?”

 

The tone is harsh, right by his ear. The other doesn’t pay it much mind, though, replying right away.

 

“Nah, it can wait. I didn’t know he was awake.”

 

‘Zoro’ grunts behind him. “Barely. If he knocks out again we’re getting smelling salts to wake him. I’m tired of playing this waiting game, even if Nami says it’s because of stupid shit like ‘wound trauma’. We’ve all toughed out worse injuries, and she’s a navigator, why take her word over Chopper’s-”

 

All these names bounce around in his mind, too much and not enough. He doesn’t recognize any of them. He does, however, note the significance of providing a role with one name, and so does the other, it seems.

 

“-can’t just say things like that!”

 

“Oh, what, like he’ll go back and report it? You know we’re not letting a Marine go so easily. Now, go ahead of me and tell Luffy-”

 

A Marine? What did that mean? Did they -him?

 

He’s suddenly jerked the rest of the way to his feet, two hands resting on his keeled shoulders. Biting back another noise of pain, he casts his gaze down, and his eyes snap to a small puddle of blood that reveals his dim reflection, his mottled and broken face. The irony of the blood being there and revealing this doesn’t escape him. He’s marched forward before he can dwell on it much, though, too occupied now with keeping from making much noise as pain once again shoots up his left leg.

 

He’s led out of the room and through hallways of the ship, the dark wood and dim lighting not doing much to help him grasp his surroundings. At one point his head tips forward, chin almost tucked to his chest, and he can only grunt, not having the strength to correct it.

 

“No no, stop it.” The hands on his shoulders shake him, and he’s tipped back until he’s upright once more. “You can’t pass out now.” He’s pushed forward again. “We don’t have a doctor to make sure you get up again.”

 

No doctor? Then this crew wasn’t very put-together. At least they had a navigator. Namo? Mami? His vision goes fuzzy, and his head pounds as he tries to recall the name. So he gives up.

 

Eventually he’s tugged before a large door frame, and the cacophonous noise beyond it all but halts as he’s led through, stumbling over the new flooring for a moment before being sharply righted.

 

“Luffy! I brought him.”

 

He’s jerked forward, and whatever reply came was lost to him as a hiss of pain makes its way past his lips. It’s a low sound, but it’s enough for him to roughly be led forward the rest of the way, and then be shoved onto his knees, and now his teeth are grit together as his leg feels on fire, and his eye downcasts just to catch on a bloody patch of his side, dribbles of red spilling onto the wood below.

 

“You also tracked blood over my ship, it seems.”

 

The reply comes at an even tempo, right in front of him. He lets his eyes turn forward and slowly work their way up.

 

Cracked calluses show in the space revealed from worn sandals. Sharp leather, charcoal, sticks to the skin of ankles, shins, around the bump of knees and press of thighs. A belt is forgone in replace of a sash, golden and hanging down from one side. There’s no shirt to be tucked into it, instead a lean show of muscles, and a deep, gnarly gash of a scar over a wide chest. Surrounding the frame is a thick red coat, hanging off broad shoulders and gathering near the base of calves. The gold trimming and embroidery is connected with the gold chains hanging from a neck spattered with dark hair. It frames a tanned face, wild, and long where it gathers into a band, spilling over the wide collar of the coat.

 

He locks his one working eye with black orbs, catching them for a solid moment before they both flick away to rake down his own beaten form.

 

“-doesn’t matter, anyway. No one can find his face in the Marine registry. We still don’t know who he is.”

 

“He’s unrecognizable because he’s too swollen up.”

 

“Yeah, no _shit_ Luffy, I knew-”

 

“We’ll just give it more time. A couple more days should do.”

 

That was another thing. They thought he was a bloody Marine. To add insult to injury -literally- they couldn’t even recognize him, Law, and the six hundred million bounty he was worth, last he’d seen wanted posters.

 

And then he was tired. Screw it. Screw this. If these lowlife pirates who couldn’t even have a doctor on hand to treat their prisoners to recognizable means wanted to fanagle with him, then he at least deserved to know where in the goddamn hell he even was. And if he was outside the New World then so help him-

 

“Where-” he rasps, cuts himself off. At least his voice worked, throat not damaged. It was probably from disuse, the rough edge. Those dark eyes grab onto him again, attention caught by his attempt at speech. He switches motives, ignoring the pain and asking what he was now _really_ interested in, because the niceties of the clothes before him that had escaped him now were making themselves known. These had to be some big-shots, but-

 

“Who _are_ you?”

 

And then, if it was even possible, the figure straightens to full height, taking a step closer as he glares down at Law, and then loosens that expression, twisting lips into a grin.

 

“I’m Luffy,” the pirate sneers. “You’re on board the Pirate King’s ship.”


	2. something out there preying upon you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i sat on this for a long time. i worked on it for a long time, too, because i wanted everything to be perfect. i also waited for a bit for wano to start. and then life took over, and things are still really messy, but this is finally ready to be out. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who's supported this so far! it meant so much to get such a tremendous response from a couple thousand words. i'm actually taking part in the lawlu big bang event this year, so i'll be bidding my time with that first and foremost. still, i'm excited to progress with this fic, it's something i've had planned for a bit now. i hope you'll still keep up even if updates are a little slow! i promise it's going to be an amazing time.
> 
> this is the first real chapter, which is why it has a title. i've never really done titled chapters as i'm bad at coming up with titles for stories anyways, but i wanted to try here.
> 
> one final thing, all the flashbacks in this fic follow the same format as the rest of the story, as opposed to my past works where it's been a block of italicized text. i think you'll be able to pick up on what's past and what's present pretty easily, though.

Today would be one of the bad days.

 

He gazes down to his hands, turned palmside up, and the pale patches shine clearly back at him, lit by the moon above. His fingers were already shaking, and despite the cool night air, he could feel his skin getting clammy.

 

Law drops his hands, leans back, and sighs. There was no light; he still had time to sleep more. With that in mind, he nestles back into a wall of feathers, soft as they ruffle against his cheek.

 

\--

 

“I love you.”

 

And he smiles, despite the fight they were being thrust into, despite the hopelessness of the situation, because it had been so, so long since he had heard those words. He smiles great big to mimic the one before him; in this moment that is enough.

 

\--

 

He’s thrust awake by an unknown force, feet kicking out, head reeling so much it slams against the floor, prompting a startled cry to leave his lips.

 

And then he’s burning. He’s on fire. Everything hurts and he curls in on himself only to cry out again as he realizes he’s lying on his wounded side. His eyes squeeze shut and he forced his teeth to unclench. Breathe. He needs to breathe.

 

A hand snakes down to his side -followed by another, tugged from the binding- to find it sticky. Though his mind is still in a sort of panicked turmoil, he’s quick to realize it’s blood. As carefully as he can with his heart still racing, he pushed his hands underneath his shirt and feels around the wound.

 

The blood is congealed, sticky, so he knows he’s not actively bleeding. He’s still careful as he removes his hands and lowers the shirt. At least his breathing has slowed. Raising himself up, he’s quick to take stalk of his location -mainly, that he can’t see shit.

 

If he remembered correctly the door was a little ways back, with a rise before it. Not like he could escape in his condition, but if he got a little light, he’d at least be able to tell what was around him.

 

He moves to sit fully, but it puts strain on his side, so he stops in fear of it bleeding again. It’s only then that he notices the warmth from it, feels the slickness of it sliding down his skin. Great.

 

Not having much less to lose, he sits up and flips over so he’s on his knees, already panting from exertion. He reaches his hands out and crawls forward some, only to pause when his bruised knuckles knock against something. He snatches it up.

 

_ Food _ . It’s food, a small morsel, but he could care less. His head is throbbing as he brings it forward and bites into it, ripping off a piece.  _ Bread _ , his mind supplies, somewhere in a far, far corner. He tears into it, chewing sloppily, and tears fall from his face as his chapped lips bleed from the effort and the marled skin around his mouth is pulled taut, aching.

 

It’s gone almost immediately.

 

And with nothing to distract him, he collapses, the pain overbearing.

 

\--

 

There’s water in front of him when he next wakes. He doesn’t realize his thirst until he’s jerking forward automatically, hands nearly spilling the cup in his haste. It’s not much, but it’s good,  _ so good _ , and he lets the cup drop back to the floorboards when it’s empty, panting after sucking it down all in one go.

 

He feels a little better from that. Enough to slump in his current position and think. He’d been moving for the door, right?

 

As if on some cue, he spies a sliver of light adjacent to him, meaning he’d been moving in the wrong direction. He turns to face it, spying the small incline and confirming his suspicion true.

 

With the barely-there light he sees the other thing placed before him, a small hunk of bread. His stomach convulses at the sight, lips pulling back into a snarl. Like hell he was eating-

 

Underneath, the ship jerks, causing him to come crashing down. The walls tremble, and he watches as the light dims and gets thinner, until it’s no longer there, and he’s thrust back into darkness.

 

\--

 

A hand fists into his hair and he’s suddenly very much awake.

 

The door is open a bit, just enough for him to make out the deep brown eyes glaring at him, too close.

 

“You’re lucky it was me that came and not our cook,” a voice tells him, the sound harsh and grating on his ears. A woman’s, he realizes. He’s confused, and she seems to sense this, letting him go and thrusting something into his hands.

 

The bread.

 

“He’s  _ not _ really very fond of those that waste food, and since we still need you alive, you’re going to eat it.” She leans back on her heels, still crouched down.

 

Meanwhile, he nearly topples upon release from her hold, energy severely depleted. Despite this his nose still wrinkles upon her suggestion.

 

She grabs fabric near his shoulder and pulls him forward, and he hisses in pain.

 

“If you don’t eat it, I’ll see personally that all your wounds are reopened so harshly you’ll have no chance of being saved by our flimsy-at-best efforts.” Her eyes narrow. “At least someone on this ship has attempted to help -not that you deserve it. So don’t let their work go in vain.”

 

He attempts to swallow, anxiety getting to him. His throat’s too dry for it, so it’s a poor attempt. Law nods slowly, the gruesome threat still trying to process. She seems satisfied, though, and with a last cursory glance, leaves.

  
  
  


\--

 

This had to be some cheap stunt.

 

His hands curl around the piece of bread in front of him. It’s cold and gone stale from neglect, but he still nibbles on it, cautious of his mouth’s bruised condition. All of him seemed to be bruised, actually. He takes stock of this to avoid the taste filling his mouth, remembering the threat he’d been met with before. Though there was the wound on his side, messily bandaged up now, something wrong with his leg -he couldn’t check, with his hands bound and his pants covering it- and some damage to his collarbone, from what he’d been able to examine of it.

 

His cell was dark, extremely so, so he couldn’t confirm much else. It probably wasn’t even a cell, but he couldn’t imagine a pirate ship having an extra room to toss people in. At the very least he’d be in a medical ward, but that seemed to be a dangerous topic, from what he’d picked up on from his earlier encounters. Well. They did say they didn’t have a doctor.

 

King of the pirates. Yeah fucking right. He snorts around bites of the bread, then winces at the extraneous movement, prickles of pain maring his skin. Law had been alive for a long time now, and there was certainly not a Pirate King in the world. The only thing that came even remotely close were the four Yonko, which-

 

He stops chewing, pressure gathering at his temples. His breath hitches as it rises, and he has to take slow, deep exhales for it to calm down just a bit. 

 

That was his fourth cause of concern. There was something wrong with his head, though it wasn’t a constant pain like the other three wounds were. He could never pinpoint it, either. It just appeared whenever he thought too much.

 

He carefully finishes off the bread, then leans back to take weight off the base of his spine. His bones creak at the movement, protesting, but he toughs it out until he’s somewhat comfortable again. 

 

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when he was in the dark like this. Not that it mattered much given his current predicament, but it would’ve been useful in recalling the events that had led him here. Somehow he was a prisoner on a pirate ship. Because that made so much sense.

 

He didn’t even know if he was at fault or not. He seemed to be of something, but it was also likely that he’d been taken hostage, if they thought he was a Marine of some sort. Clearly he didn’t go without struggle, but it was being left out of who started it that bothered him. It was what kept him cautious. If he  _ was _ at fault somehow, haggling the crew would only worsen his situation. 

 

And when they did realize who he was, that six hundred million beri would look quite tempting to grab, even to a guy claiming to be the Pirate King. Then he’d  _ really _ be in trouble.

 

He thinks maybe he closed his eyes, the next thing greeting him cold wood against his cheek from where it’s pressed against the floorboards. Great. He moves his hands, still bound together, the best he can to his side and swipes across the bandages. They were loose, but they were also sticky, which was much more concerning. Bleeding out was not currently on his top list of priorities.

 

What kind of Pirate King didn’t even have a doctor on board. Seriously. What a joke.

 

He slides forward into a sitting position the best he can, but his side aches in protest, and he gives up shortly with a lengthy sigh. Well this was officially an unfortunate situation. Not the worst thing he’d had to endure, not by a longshot, but it did undeniably suck.

 

Lying there, the only thing he can opt to do is breathe and wait. 

 

\--

 

His leg is killing him. He slides it forward, pokes at his thigh with bound hands. It felt . . he didn’t know how to describe it. Like pulsing, maybe. It wasn’t a puncture wound like his side was.

 

Speaking of which. He moves to pat down the area, faintly surprised to find more messy bandages overlayed, forming thick layers with the ones underneath. Well. At least the bleeding had stopped.

 

He slumps back down. Two days, right? If he was lucky, one had passed already. He doesn’t feel any better. Maybe, possibly, worse. 

 

Dread and anticipation are alive and well, roiling in his stomach. He’d almost rather stay where he was than be thrown to the dogs. As soon as he was recognized that would be it. He didn’t have the strength to resist, and no pirate crew would pass up the chance at such a large sum of money. 

 

He really needed to know how it ended up like this.

 

\--

 

It’s pitch black when he looks up.

 

He opens his mouth partially, sucking in an experimental breath. His joints are stiff. Slowly, carefully, he moves his arms to check the bandage. Dry. Good.

 

His face hurts. His leg aches. He slowly turns his head in the location he thinks the door is, but it’s too dark to see if any new sustenance has been brought in. He doesn’t feel up to moving either, so he opts to lie there instead. He’d check later.

 

\--

 

. . How long had it been?

 

\--

 

He wakes to his head swimming, and a voice on the edge of his subconscious.

 

_ “-then this would have never happened!” _

 

It takes a minute to realize it’s his own. By then everything is silent.

 

\--

 

He can’t fall asleep, so his only option is to lie there.

 

This time his mind doesn’t wander. He’s just here, breathing, trying to ignore his cracked lips and aching throat.

 

He listens, too.

 

Now that he’s tuned in to his ears, he picks things up. Like the sound of the sea. And his raspy breaths. And also some sort of creaking, a shuffling of wood all around him that he can’t pass off to the ship. It almost seemed like loose planks.

 

The Tang had never been an ordinary ship, so he didn’t know how these things worked. Was it for . . . maintenance?

 

Fuck it. His head was beginning to hurt again.

 

\--

 

There was red behind his eyes, and it doesn’t take long for him to prop them open. He cocks his head faintly in the direction he knew the door to be, and the harsh, yellow light he’s met with makes him realize how dry his eyes are. It takes a few moments for him to adjust and settle, moments which are filled by an unfamiliar voice.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake. That makes this easier.”

 

It’s a lamp, the honey-colored light a clue, but the rocking movement as the figure holding it creeps closer becomes the giveaway. He processes the words but doesn’t act outwardly to them. Still. Had it been two days already?

 

The lamp gets set down and a figure settles beside him, in front of his torso. He feels eyes where the wound on his side was.

 

“I just found an old concoction that should help clear the bruises on your face, so we’re in luck. Since you’re conscious, i’ll just take you to the infirmary and apply it there. Better lighting and all.” A nervous chucking sounds through the room. Law can’t bring himself to care.

 

“But don’t you think about trying anything! Or I, the great captain Usopp, won’t treat you at all!”

 

He lets a beat of silence settle before replying. “Isn’t the Pirate King supposed to be captain?”

 

_ God _ his voice was raspy. His tongue felt swollen, too. Best to keep the talking to a minimum.

 

It’s rather amusing to watch Usopp flinch back. “W-Well . . alright, you got me. But still! Don’t try anything. You’re on thin ice with Luffy and the rest enough as it is. You’re lucky they’re letting me treat you at all.”

 

That last bit was muttered, probably not meant for Law’s ears. But he’d gotten pretty good at listening. It strikes him as odd, given what he knew about this crew, yet he doesn’t bother questioning it aloud. Best to save his voice.

 

A dark hand beckons him up and he breathes out a thin sigh before complying, albeit rather slowly. It doesn’t seem to bother the other much, though he doesn’t rise to help at all, even as Law’s wrists buckle and he slips, knocking his chin against the wood. He might even have heard a chuckle, but his head was ringing so much he wasn’t sure.

 

He stands shakily. Usopp grasps the lamp’s handle and rises as well, and with the light Law takes a chance to glance to the sides. 

 

It’s not entirely what he expected. A corner is filled with scraps and planks of wood of all shades. Beside it was an assortment of cannon fire and other typical ship weaponry. On the other side of the room was stacks of wood in mint condition, all a rich mahogany color. 

 

Usopp makes a noise and Law snaps back to attention, taking a few careful steps forward. He winces as his leg protests, but tries not to let it show otherwise. The door opens to more darkness, the lamp only doing so much. Though he can’t move very fast, he makes sure to keep pace with Usopp to avoid being left without light.

 

“Watch your step,” Usopp tells him, veering to the right. They’ve come into a large chamber, and Law catches sight of wooden bars sticking out from the center. He skirts to the side, but keeps his eyes on the floor in order to avoid tripping.

 

He’s led through another narrow passage, and then they come out to another open area, this one with a bit of light from the left side.

 

That particular side is a mess of scattered contraptions, boxes of tools, and scribbles on gridded paper. The light comes from a small lantern attached to the wall. On his right side, steel covers the wood, housing a drafting table with a box of rolled paper beneath, more tools, and more complicated-looking contraptions only half put together.

 

Usopp climbs the few steps on the far side and halts in front of a ladder. Law watches as he grips the lamp handle with his teeth and ascends. He supposes he’s supposed to follow, but with his hands bound . . .

 

Apparently his companion doesn’t share the same thought, as he climbs all the way through, the light following, and pokes his head out once through, eyeing Law. “You coming?”

 

Law frowns slightly. Instead of speaking, he lifts his chained wrists. Usopp’s eyes widen.

 

“Oh! Right. Hold on.” He descends once more, quicker this time, and pauses to look up, realizing he forgot the lamp. He shrugs it off and glances to Law once more. 

 

“I could unchain you, but . .” He hesitates. “Your shoulder’s still- well . . I doubt you could still use both hands to climb.” He sighs, then paces for a bit, a hand below his chin. Law’s already tired, but he stands there without complaint. It doesn’t take long for Usopp to drop his arm and head over to the left side, sifting through the table until he’s grasped something -a slingshot?

 

“Step back,” he says, and Law obediently does so. He takes aim with the slingshot and fires at the base of the ladder. It’s too dim for Law to tell what it is, but something big and puffy now occupies the space. 

 

“There! It’s my Trampolia. I’ll go first to show you, and then I’ll make sure you don’t fall back down once you’re through.” Law barely has time to process the words before Usopp takes a running start and jumps onto the -Trampolia? And then, right before Law’s eyes, he’s catapulted into the air and up the hole the ladder goes through. 

 

He stands there for a moment, stunned. Then Usopp pokes his head through again and motions for him to go.

 

Right. Well . . He definitely wasn’t running, not with his leg. But maybe the force would be enough so he could just jump. Deciding this, Law walks up to the Trampolia until his feet -were those leaves?

 

This just . . kept getting stranger. He looks up and Usopp jabs a thumbs-up at him in encouragement. 

 

“I’ve got you!” He assures him, but Law’s not entirely convinced. 

 

It’s not enough for him not to try, though. So he bends his legs and ignores his injury and throws himself above the Trampolia. And when he lands, he’s thrust up in the same manner Usopp was until he’s met with the light of the lamp and a small, compact room.

 

Before he can fall back through to where he came, Usopp carefully grasps his arms and moves him to the side. He lands on wood, and with a startled hiss as pain jolts through him from the impact. Usopp winces in apology, but then quickly turns away to thrust open a door and beckons Law through.

 

“To the left,” he calls, and Law complies. Usopp comes behind him and shuts the door, the lamp in his hands again. With the light, Law can clearly see the wall of water in front of them, housing various marine life that lazily swim by. His eyes widen. Surely they weren’t underwater. 

 

A chuckle from beside has him turning to Usopp, waiting for explanation. The other does so, gesturing to the left and urging Law to continue walking.

 

“It’s our aquarium! It actually goes all the way around, and in this hall it serves as the ceiling as well.”

 

The pride is there in his voice, but Law lets that fact slip at the last bit, only too eager to stop and look up and, ah, yep, he was right. A tap of his back makes him move forward again.

 

“Watch your step up here, there’s a few stairs,” Usopp tells him. The light from behind is enough for Law to make them out thanks to the warning, but there was no way he was getting the door open past them, so he moves aside to let Usopp squeeze past and do it himself.

 

They come out to a room that the aquarium fully circles. This was probably what Usopp meant when he said ‘around’. He doesn’t let himself admire it much, keeping pace with Usopp while it was still dark. Another door opens, and Law’s led through to more darkness.

 

Except, this time he can feel the wind against his face. It’s a sensation he’s forgotten in his time locked up, and he takes it in greedily. The smell of saltwater is also overpowering, solidifying the notion that he was outside. 

 

Usopp gestures and he’s led to the left, only noticing how soft it had been underfoot when he’s on wood planks of the steps once more. This time it’s more than a few, and his pace is slower as his leg aches. 

 

He makes it up and stumbles all the way across a platform until Usopp veers sharply left, telling him to mind the railing. It wasn’t so narrow that he’d collide with it, but the sound of the waves below puts him on edge, and with the hidden moon providing no light, he’s grateful for the warning.

 

A door opens and he’s beckoned into a small room. Usopp closes the door after entering and sets the lamp down on a table in the corner. He has Law take a seat on the bed across from it, which he’s glad to do. 

 

He sinks onto the mattress with a sigh, unable to contain himself. His eyes flick shut, he doesn’t know how long. It’s only when something dabs his face that he bothers to open them again.

 

Usopp has pushed a chair closer and holds a cotton ball with a pair of tweezers. He dips it again into a jar and shakes it before dabbing it on Law’s cheek. It feels cool against his bruised skin, but also thick, heavy. He can’t decide if it’s a good feeling.

 

“I read that this is supposed to reduce swelling pretty quickly,” Usopp tells him, dipping the cotton once again. “I don’t understand any of the ingredients, but I did figure out that much. Hopefully by the time the sun is up you’ll be in good shape. Or, well, uh! The bruises. Will be.” 

 

It smells strong. He’d be worried his nose wasn’t working by how not fazed he was by it, but Usopp was the same and closer to the jar than he was, so it couldn’t be that overpowering. 

 

The stuff gets dabbed everywhere. Nearly on his lips, around his ears, to his hairline. His face feels heavy after a while, like a mask about to slop off. But it still feels cool, like running a wet washcloth over the battered skin, so he supposes it balances out. 

 

After a bit there’s noise to their left, from outside the door. Law’s eyes move towards it, and after a particularly loud noise, he cocks his face a little in that direction too. It’s then that Usopp catches on.

 

“That’s the kitchen.” He jabs a finger in the door’s direction to emphasize. “Sa-uhhhhhh . . our cook is probably up. I bet it’s close to dawn now.”

 

So it was that late. He blinks, latching onto something revealed from the information. “You’ve been awake to treat me. Why?”

 

“Ah. Well.” Usopp sets down the tweezers with a sigh and scratches at his cheek. After a moment he screws the lid back on the jar and leans back in the chair. “I don’t know. Been trying to figure that out myself. You don’t deserve it, but . .” His lips screw up. “Chopper treated everyone that needed it. Even when he hated the person, if they were injured, he helped them. I remember years ago, we were sailing with a hostage, and Chopper treated him while he was chained up, wouldn’t let anyone touch him until after he was finished. I think I really admired that about him- uh, hey?! What’s wrong?”

 

Law couldn’t breathe. He held his forehead with both hands, a searing, sickening pain overwhelming him. It felt like someone was cutting into his skull. Over and over again, Usopp’s words echoed.  _ Sailing with a hostage _ . He let his lips part in a silent cry, unable to bear it. He faintly acknowledged Usopp speaking, then moving around him, and then he was being moved onto the bed fully, back pressed against the mattress. Warm hands calmly removed his own from his face and held them tight. Without the pressure it seemed to get worse, and Law sucks in a breath desperately.

 

It fades after a while. He peels his eyes open and Usopp breathes out a big sigh of relief, rambling on and on about how he didn’t know what to do and did that happen often and this and that.

 

Law takes a moment to think. It was decidedly new, but . . Well, he couldn’t force himself to say it. “I don’t know,” he says instead, and Usopp hums in response, the words not sitting right.

 

He’s still holding Law’s hands. By the light of the lamp Law can see they’re in better shape that when he’d last seen them. His fingers weren’t nearly as patchy, and the backs were only yellowish here and there. He wiggles them to test them out, satisfied when they don’t ache as much. 

 

The movement catches Usopp’s attention and he released them, only to grab them back and flip them around.

 

“Oh wow, they’re a lot better today! I can’t believe-” He breaks off and Law realizes that the shabby shape of his hands before were hiding his tattoos. Now that the skin was cleared, they were visible. Which meant . .

 

Usopp looks up at him, grip on his hands growing slack. It doesn’t take long. His face forms an expression Law can’t identify and his words are barely audible. “Oh my god.”

 

Law’s stomach sinks. The medicine must have been working better than expected. He thought he’d be saved by his raspy throat and mottled complexion. But it had been two days, right? Time was up. 

 

This was it.

 

Usopp drops his hands completely, slouching beside the bed. His eyes never leave Law’s, even as he looks anywhere but at his impromptu caretaker. 

 

“Law.”

 

He sighs. “That’s me.”

 

Usopp springs away, nearly ramming into the desk. He lets out a nervous chuckle, then glances to the jar of liquid he’d used previously. “Uh, if I had known, I would have let you treat yourself. Here, uh, what do you need? I’ll try and find it.”

 

He furrows his brows. “What?”

 

“Like, medical supplies? You know more than me, obviously, but if you tell me what to do and what to get I can probably manage.” His legs were shaking. It caught Law’s attention, but didn’t draw away from the confusion the words brought on.

 

“So, what do you need?”

 

“How would I know?”

 

“U-” Usopp stutters off, then tips his head slightly. “Of course you would know. What are you playing at here? Just tell me, I promise I’ll get it if we have it.”

 

Law shakes his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’ve been treating me you should know best what to do.”

 

Usopp frowns, squints. His mouth falls open a little. He blinks. Twice. Thrice. Then he jolts up straight, stumbles to the chair, and wheels it over so he’s in front of Law again.

 

“Law,” he says, face serious. “Do you know who I am?”

 

His eyes narrow. “Am I supposed to?”

 

Usopp bites on his lips bit decides to let it go, the next question at the ready. The big one. “Do you know who Luffy is?”

 

Luffy. That was . . yeah. It was the captain he’d met before. “The one who called himself the Pirate King.” 

 

“He is.”

 

He snorts. “Yeah right. There is no Pirate King.”

 

Usopp stands from the chair. Law glances and sees his face lined with panic, just before he squeaks out that he’d be back and breaks for the door that led outside, letting it slam shut. 

 

Law sighs. Great. His time really was up. Soon the whole crew would know who he was, and he’d be forked off for a nice bounty. 

 

The door opens back up soon enough, Usopp nervously skittering in, followed by the captain, and a tall skeleton lingering just outside. 

 

At this point Law had sat back up, prepared to face whatever came. He was leaned against the wall for support, one less thing to concentrate on. His side hurt again.

 

Luffy comes in and their eyes immediately find each other. It halts the captain’s steps, and Law can read the surprise in that expression clear as day. 

 

“To-” He breaks off, lets his mouth slowly close. “Law.”

 

“Yes,” he mutters, breaking the gaze.

 

He hears a sharp intake of breath, his only warning before a fist is slammed into his jaw, jerking his head to the side. He half-collapses, breath stuttering. Immediately Usopp is shouting, and Luffy is shouting back.

 

“Remember what I said!” 

 

Luffy quiets at those words, but he doesn’t calm down. Law has picked himself back up at this point, but he’s not quite prepared for those dark eyes to swivel back to meet his once again.

 

“Who am I?” Luffy asks, harshly, jerking a thumb to himself.

 

Law’s eyes narrow. “Luffy?”

 

“What’s my  _ full name _ ?”

 

“How would I know that? We’ve never met before,” Law grounds out, tired of the same questions, tired of speaking, tired of his face stinging from the blow.

 

He’s met with tense silence. The skeleton comes into the room, just past the door. “Luffy,” he says. “Usopp may be right.”

 

“I can’t believe it.” Usopp shakes his head, a little dazed.

 

Law holds Luffy’s gaze until he’s turning to Usopp. “Unchain him.”

 

“Wha-? Are you sure-”

 

“ _ Do it. _ ”

 

Usopp throws his hands up, then digs into his pockets. After a moment he lets out an irritated noise and turns to the skeleton. “You do it. It’ll be faster.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Law can’t say he’s not unnerved by the skeleton. He very much is. It’s just that there’s more pressing matters at hand. But when said skeleton uncaps his cane to reveal a sword hidden within, he becomes very nervous. It’s only because the cane slides shut soon after that he breathes again. And then the chain binding his wrist snaps, falling to the bed.

 

Yeah. He’s a little impressed at that.

 

He moves slowly, just pushing back enough to roll his shoulders, the effort relieving on one side and near excruciating on the other. He can’t hold back a wince. Whatever was wrong with his collarbone, being in that position for so long surely didn’t help it.

 

“Who’s Chopper?”

 

It’s Luffy that speaks. Law picks his head up to look at him. At the same time, Usopp dives for his captain, putting a hand over his mouth. 

 

“Okay, meeting time! In the kitchen! Let’s go!” He pipes up, dragging Luffy with him through the other door. The skeleton departs through the door they came from, and once both shut, Law is left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo hey so ik this can get confusing bc things seem to contradict themselves, it's all in what law recalls and what he's forgotten as to why there's gaps. if you have any questions my tumblr is @ cheswirl
> 
> op is one of those shows that i love but don't talk a lot about, so there's not a lot of op content there. still, i'm always willing to talk abt my fics, and if you think the answer might go a bit long, i'd much rather throw it in a post there than write a huge comment here.


	3. seize the moment, don't let go ; watch it fall down the rabbit hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wutb called to me and i was like alright fuck let's do this
> 
> but guys i got a month left for my llbb i gotta do thaaaaat i rly need to
> 
> so uh dont expect another update for a bit
> 
> ALSO i changed the summary bc i got tired of it so now it's even moooore nondescript

Objectively he feels a lot better. The ointment Usopp has spread on his face leaves an impression of the skin going soft, and it doesn’t hurt much to contort into any sort of facial expression.

 

Mentally, though, he was exhausted.

 

Instead of trying to piece together what the  _ fuck _ just happened, or straining to hear the muffled words spoken next door, Law opts to lie back on the bed and sleep.

 

He’s awoken far too soon, though it feels like hours have passed. The door to the kitchen is closing as he shifts his head up. A blonde takes a seat in the rolling chair and slides it over to the bed. Then he leans back, arms crossed, and sighs. “Law.”

 

He props his head up on the pillow, doing the minimum to acknowledge this new person. “Hm?”

 

“I’m Sanji.” He uncrosses his arms to tap a hand against his leg. When Law flicks his gaze up, he sees the blue eyes are no longer watching him. It’s clear he’s antsy -of what, Law isn’t sure.

 

“I made some rice earlier,” Sanji says, jerking Law from his thoughts. “Would you like some?”

 

What an offer. It doesn’t take long for Law to move his head in a nod, pride forgone in favor of his stomach. Sanji gets up quickly, eager to be out of the room, but it doesn’t take long for him to return, and then Law is sitting up with a small bowl and a pair of chopsticks in his hands. Sanji resumes his sitting, but he seems more at ease as Law begins to eat, forcing himself to take it slow.

 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Sanji asks him, and Law snaps to attention, suspicion in his gaze.

 

“Corazon,” he answers, too quickly.

 

Sanji’s face screws up in confusion, like he doesn’t recognize the name. “And . . how old were you?”

 

“Thirteen,” he answers easily, then shifts, pausing before his next bite of rice. The look on Sanji’s face would be priceless if Law didn’t suddenly come to terms with the issue his statement brought forward.

 

He lowers the bowl of rice to his lap.

 

“But . .” His lips purse. “That can’t be right. I’m a wanted pirate. I have a bounty, a ship . .” His eyes screw up as a fleeting thought passes through his mind -a crew? He couldn’t recall one, but it would make sense to have . . .

 

Sanji’s hand is on his arm and Law turns to see something too close to pity for him to be comfortable. 

 

“Nothing from . . . two years ago? Six years ago? Ten?”

 

It doesn’t take Law long to shake his head. “What’s the significance?”

 

Sanji shrugs. “Ten was the catalyst war. Lots of things happened that year.” He stops at Law’s lost look, switching tactics. “Law, you . .” He purses his lips, eyes meeting Law’s golden ones again. “You were . . in an incident. We’re pretty sure you have amnesia.”

 

Suddenly he doesn’t feel like finishing his food. “Oh.”

 

“Memory is strange,” Sanji continues. “You say you remember up to where you were thirteen, yet you also know details from past that. It seems to be selective, but-” he taps the side of his head. “I know you were bleeding here, when we found you.”

 

“You think I’ve lost my mind because of an injury.”

 

“Not your mind. Just -some- of your memory.”

 

Law sets the bowl and chopsticks aside. “So-”

 

The door closest to them opens, and through the blinding light Law can see a girl with long blue hair poking her head into the room. Her eyes land on Law for a moment before turning to her crewmate. “Sanji. We’ve reached the current Nami was looking for.”

 

Sanji rises, nodding. “Thanks, Viv,” he murmurs.  She leaves after that, letting the door slide shut. Sanji turns back to Law. “Time to get up. All of us agreed you . . you should be there. I’ll explain to them after, about the amnesia.” When he smiles, it’s grim. “Until then, well, I think you deserve everything that comes of this.”

 

-

 

Outside, the sky is cloudy. 

 

Law’s hands are free, so descending the steps to the deck is easier. He stops short at the base, hanging back as Sanji moves forward. Several pairs of eyes glower at him, and Law can see where he’s not wanted. He lets his feet hit the lawn and then backs off, coming to a stop near the entrance to the aquarium room. From this new vantage point he can see a mass of crumpled sheets near a tall fishman and the green-haired guy he’d seen once before.

 

Luffy is against the rails, letting a redheaded woman point out something at sea to him. After another moment they break away, and Luffy’s eyes meet Law’s. They narrow and look away before Law can react.

 

Luffy makes a sound and everyone looks his way. He gestures to the woman. “Nami says we’re at a good spot.” His voice is tense, curt. “Let’s start, before the weather changes.”

 

The fishman makes to pick up the sheets, but he’s stopped by a man with tear hair and metal shoulders. Once the load is in his arms, Law can see it’s one sheet that’s been sewed shut, like a-

 

His eyes widen. The shape is more distinct now, so there’s no mistaking it. His throat feels very dry, and all the rice threatens to leave him. He has to turn away.

 

It’s a makeshift body bag.

 

The guy passes by the woman with blue hair Law had been earlier, and she turns her head away, eyes clenched shut and hands clasped at her chest. She’s consoled by a woman with long black hair, and Law shivers as he recognizes those dark brown eyes that suddenly dart towards him.

 

Slowly, everyone gathers at the rails, the man and the sheets in the middle. “Nami,” he says, gesturing to the water. “Anywhere?”

 

The redhead from earlier hunches her shoulders. “Yes.”

 

Usopp starts sniffling, and Zoro -Law recalls his name now- places a heavy hand on his shoulder. The skeleton -Brook- starts humming a tune, and Law can tell without recognizing it that it was off pitch.

 

“Chopper,” Sanji mumbles, hands clenched tight over the railing.

 

And then, as cliche as could be, rain starts falling.

 

It’s soft, slow. Nothing to change the waves, or make the wind pick up. But just enough to mask the transition of sniffles to tears, as several of the crew reach out to the bag, their faces wet.

 

“Franky,” Luffy says quietly. The other raises the sheets to the railing. “Jinbe.” His voice breaks; the fishman steps forward.

 

“This is how burials are conducted at sea,” Jinbe tells them, his voice a low timbre. “You seal the body in a container, then stuff weights down the side. You find a current that will carry it downward, so that the body doesn’t end up ashore-”

 

“But Chopper can’t swim,” the blue-haired girl says, and at the end, her voice catches.

 

“Vivi . .” Nami murmurs, moving to stand by her.

 

And that did it, several of the crew breaking down into sobs. Luffy can’t help making noise, and eventually stops trying to wipe his eyes with his sleeves.

An arm blossoms from his shoulder and wipes his tears for him. Luffy looks over to a woman reaching to lie her hand on a corner of the bag, a trembling smile on her face. “Chopper,” she murmurs, “Safe travels.”

 

“Have a nice time at the bottom of the sea.” Brook.

 

“Enjoy the time down.” Nami.

 

“You’ll only see it once.” Zoro.

 

“We’ll stick around here to see you make it.” Jinbe.

 

“Try not to get eaten!” Usopp.

 

“No need to be scared.” Vivi.

 

“You’ll be just fine. Promise!” Sanji.

 

“See you, bro. See you again someday.” Franky.

 

“Chopper,” Luffy grounds out, and the hurt is there, the rawness is there. “Thank you! Thank you for everything. I’d be dead so many times over without you-” he stops, a hiccup leaving his throat. “So thank you! I’m so glad I met you. I’m so glad you were a part of my crew!”

 

Eventually, Franky releases his grip, and the lifeless body tumbles into the sea. Instead of the mood glowing somber, it explodes, almost everyone crying, pressed against the rails, watching the bag sink.

 

Law’s too frazzled to be anything but caught off guard when Luffy snaps his head towards him, stare accusing and angered. He stomps over a few steps and points. “This is what you did,” he spits, and Law almost falls over. Tears are still dripping from Luffy’s face, and his voice is anything but steady. “You killed him!”

 

The breath leaves Law’s chest, making him stumble for a couple moments. And then Sanji’s words make sense. And Usopp’s rant from earlier makes sense. And Luffy’s snappy words make sense. But-

 

He feels his hands shake. No. No! That wasn’t possible. He doesn’t kill people! “There has to be a mistake,” he manages to get out. 

 

“You did this,” Vivi spits, eyes fire and brimstone, and sudden anger all at him.

 

“It’s your fault!” Usopp snaps, and Law collapses.

 

“I . . I don’t remember. Please,” he begs. “I didn’t.” He turns to Luffy. “I didn’t!”

 

“But you did,” Luffy says, voice hard.

 

Law didn’t kill people. This wasn’t right! But he couldn’t dispute it. He didn’t remember his injuries. He couldn’t recall how he boarded this ship. His morals were from twenty years ago -things could change! But he couldn’t see this changing. He couldn’t picture himself doing this.

 

His inhale is stuttered as he grasps at his head. It’s pulsing, painful, and he gasps again on his knees. “No! No . .” he mutters.

 

“Luffy,” Sanji interrupts. “He doesn’t remember over half of-”

 

“ _ Shut up! _ ” The captain howls. “Let me be  _ mad _ !”

 

“This isn’t how Chopper should be sent off.”

 

“Robin’s right-”

 

Law can’t hear anymore. There’s pressure in his skull, and then he’s on the deck completely, eyes unfocused. The noise gets louder, but it’s all fuzz, all a blur.

 

A hand lands on his cheek, soft, but he’s already out cold.

 

-

 

He’s back in the infirmary. Usopp is there, watching him. He only speaks once Law turns his head to him.

 

“You had another freakout. Head hurt?”

 

Law winces, but already, the pain is a far-off memory. “Yeah.”

 

“Maybe . . You’re trying to remember? Dunno why it would hurt thought . .” He mumbles the last part to himself, but it’s a small room. “Anyway, Sanji told us. About the gap. We uh . . . well, we’re not heartless.” He crosses his arms, shrugs, but his expression is unsure. “Everyone came to a consensus. They’re waiting in the kitchen.”

 

Next door. Law sits up, bracing himself. His expectations were skewed. Anything could happen, now.

 

Usopp leads him through the door and nine pairs of eyes move to him, all conversation halting. He’s motioned to take a seat, but there’s . . not any. So he sits on the floor, like a couple others, and tries not to let the hard stares bother him.

 

“Law,” the fishman begins. “My name is Jinbe. You knew each of us, once, but since that is irrelevant now, allow us to restate ourselves.”

 

They go around the circle, but there's ten of them, and Law has to prioritize to keep them straight. Some just get shortened, like Nico. Some, like Long Nose and Navigator, he lets the given names slip past.

 

He remembers Brook and Zoro and Vivi, but the cyborg is a different story. Jinbe’s name slips, so he changes it to Fish. He knows Sanji, by now.

 

Luffy is a hard name to forget.

 

“What’s the point of this,” he interupts, weary from the name game. “What’s happening to me.”

 

Another bout of silence. Then,

 

“We can’t . . . blame you, in good faith, “ Nico tells him. 

 

Zoro elaborates. “There’s a problem with holding a grudge against an amnesiac.”

 

“We can’t blame a man who doesn’t remember his wrongdoings,” Fish says.

 

“But,” Luffy begins, tipping forward in his seat. “There’s a problem in letting you go, when you don’t know where your loyalties lie.”

 

“There would be issues with letting you roam free,” Nami clarifies.

 

He feels a shiver go up his spine.

 

“This is about the Marine thing.” He exhales. “But that’s imposs-”

 

“Things change, Law. Shit happens.” Luffy’s legs drop from the stool to the floor. “Don’t think about it too hard. Just . . let it come naturally. Until then, you’re here.” And Law’s not an idiot, he can pick up on the hidden word. You’re  _ stuck _ here.

 

“You can stay in the infirmary,” Luffy continues. “But we have conditions.” He holds a finger up. “One. You tell us when you get a memory back. Two. Don’t cause problems. Three.” His eyes are fire. “Keep a low profile, when other people are around.”

 

So basically he was still kidnapped, sort of.

 

He supposed it was generous enough to be offered a place to stay while he didn’t know where else to go. At the same time . . . he still had trouble grasping it all. He couldn’t believe he’d killed someone, but the conviction of the crew told him otherwise.

 

Later in the evening, Long Nose retrieves the jar of poultice and helps Law apply it to his hands and face again. With assistance, he removes his pants to look at the wound on his thigh, and the sight has him gasping.

 

It’s a . . a hoof print. No wonder it felt like it was pulsing. The mark was almost an indention in his skin. He looks to Long Nose for an answer.

 

“Uh. Chopper’s a reindeer.” And that’s his answer. He doesn’t offer more, but Law doesn’t need it. Interesting to think about, but it explained the hooves nonetheless.

 

They take off the bandages around Law’s torso and Long Nose points at the large gash left probably by an antler. They slather on another mixture dug up from the confines of a cabinet and rebandage it.

 

His collarbone is dislocated. Neither of them know what to do about it, so they leave it be. Law would rather deal with the pain now than make it worse.

 

It’s strange and uncomfortable, being in the room. So after a bit of his body refusing to sleep, Law gets up and decides to spend time on the deck.

 

Outside, the sky has cleared to let the moon shine. The wind is soft, so there’s no problem with Law staggering to sit by the railing.

 

Except for, maybe, the person already there.

 

Vivi’s back is to him, so the only thing he has to distinguish her is her long blue hair, ruffling slightly with the wind. It’s not long before her head raises from the arm leant against the railing, and the turns to look at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

 

After a moment, Law settles by the infirmary door instead, providing some distance. His gaze moves to the sea, but his thoughts stay on her. It was late, right? And surely there were other spots to sightsee on the ship. Why here?

 

Then again, he didn’t know her habits, rituals. He could be intruding on her space. Well, if that was the case-

 

“Sorry. Should I go?” he asks, voice subdued in the otherwise quiet.

 

Her footsteps make him look back, watching as she takes a seat on the other side of the door and shakes her head. Her legs come up to her chest, and she leans her cheek against her knees. “No. I actually . . came to see you.”

 

His brows raise. “Really.”

 

“Mm.” She breathes out a slow sigh. Silence falls. She’s still not looking at him, so before long, Law returns his gaze to the sea.

 

“Do you really not remember being a Marine?” she finally says.

 

Law takes a moment before answering. “No. That’s . .  . it seems completely impossible, to me. I don’t agree with what I’ve witnessed them do. Or, not do. Both.” He shrugs. “Thats been . . . a long, long time now. To think things have changed is . . . it doesn’t make sense.”

 

“I get it,” she mumbles. “The ‘not do’ part. Well, it’s both, now. But still, it . . yeah.”

 

He takes a chance. “What’s the ‘now’ part?”

 

She smiles, and it’s a bitter thing. “They want me dead. It’s the only reason I’m here, with the crew, instead of back home.”

 

That hangs in the air for a while. “Care to elaborate?” Law finally says.

 

Vivi shakes her head. “Maybe. . one day. Not tonight.” She gets to her feet. “Goodnight.”

 

“Sure.” He starts to watch as she heads down the stairs to the main deck, but his attention returns to the ocean before too long.

 

Somehow it feels both strange and normal, to be travelling above the waves.

 

-

 

They had docked at the island of Mistra when the sun was rising to the sky, the land still coated in faint mid-morning light. He was still only hobbling around, but Law had been granted permission to disembark, see the city a little. He’d been given an old cloak to hide his form, and the hood now shielded his face.

 

When it had come time to decide who was accompanying Law -or rather, who he was going with, since everyone had a different task- all eleven of the crew was silent for a long time. With a huff, the cyborg finally volunteered.

 

“And you don’t think Law will stand out even more with you around?” Nico asks.

 

He shrugs. “The opposite, actually. If he’s with me, who all the attention will go to, he won’t be noticed at all!”

 

That’s how he ended up walking with Cyborg, doing his best to keep up as they move on the cobbled streets, passing various market stands. Law pulls his hood lower as curious stares flock to his companion.

 

“Let’s see, we should resupply with five barrels of cola, probably,” Cyborg mutters. “And then a few cases for me should do . .”

 

Law’s interest is piqued. “Cola?”

 

“Yeah! It’s what the Sunny runs on,” Cyborg answers, and he’s maybe a bit too loud. “And me too!”

 

“A robot running on cola.” He hums. “Ever try another drink?”

 

Cyborg waves his off. “Yeah, and let me tell you, it doesn’t work out well.” He shudders. “Oh! Right, how many cola barrels can you carry now?”

 

Law almost stops walking. His eyes turn to Cyborg’s. “Now?” At his nod, Law doesn’t even think on it. “Zero.”

 

“Oh. Guess that makes sense.”

 

They eventually pass by a small building that has Law pausing, gaze locked on the red cross above the door. A clinic. Cyborg takes notice before too long, turning back..

 

“You god, bro?”

 

“Can I . .” He hesitates. Keeping a low profile . . then again, the town was small. He hadn’t seen any World Government sigils. It could be an unaffiliated island, at the very least he’d be unrecognized. 

 

“Let me stop in here. I won’t take long.”

 

Cyborg’s brows furrow, then he takes in the building. “Hmm. Not sure about that.”

 

“At least let me get this checked.” He points to his collarbone. “It’s nondescript enough.”

 

It doesn’t take much for Cyborg to give in, letting out a sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll run and get the cola. I can get it all myself. Then I’ll swing by here again. Promise me you’ll stay here.”

 

Law nods. “Of course.”

 

“Then take some of this.” Law gets handed a few beri. “Need some way to pay. Not trying to stand out here.”

 

“Right.” He didn’t even think of that. “Thanks.”

 

The door tings with a bell as it opens, and a voice calls out to Law from beyond an open back entrance before it can close. “Just a moment!”

 

True to word, it doesn’t take long for a middle-aged man to walk out, dusting off his pants. “Hi, hi, what can I do for you?” he grunts.

 

Law slides off his hood. “My collarbone is out of place.”

 

The man nods. “Okay, I can relocate it for you. Have a seat over here, and go ahead and shrug off that shirt.”

 

He throws the cloak over the sheets and sits on the edge of the cot. Taking off his shirt is a little more difficult, but he manages. Once it’s over his head, the man is in a chair in front of him. His eyes widen as he takes Law in.

 

“That’s some scar you have there,” he says, gesturing to Law’s arm.

 

He looks down and works hard to keep his face from contorting. His upper arm bore a large burn mark. He hadn’t even noticed. How old was the scar tissue?

 

Law does his best to shrug it off. “I was a stupid kid,” he mutters, and the doctor nods, accepting the excuse and moving on. It doesn’t take long for the injury to be examined, and soon Law is holding out his arm.

 

“This will hurt,” he warns Law, who only blinks.

 

“It hurts enough now.”

 

The man laughs. “Fair enough.” And in the next second, he tugs on Law’s arm and presses his thumb against his clavicle junction. A searing pain has Law stifling a gasp, and then there’s a  _ pop _ and immediately the pain dissipates.

 

“There.” The doctor moves back. “All done. Need me to look at this, too?” He gestures to the bandages.

 

Law quickly shakes his head. That was way too descript. He forks over the money and bids thanks to the man, then he’s back on the streets.

 

Cyborg is waiting for him, three barrels in one arm and two plus a few cases of bottles in another. “Ready to go?” he asks, and Law nods.

 

-

 

_ “Why is this happening?” _

 

Sanji’s body is dumped on the table, and he gasps again as a shock courses through his chest. From close by, Zoro shuffles back, his palms now dyed in red. He recovers quickly enough, pressing them down against the gunshot wound their cook had acquired.

 

Luffy’s still screaming, and he pushes Usopp to the table, but the sniper looks on the verge of hyperventilating, and it’s clear that he won’t be helping.

 

“Nami!” Luffy yells. “You do something!”

 

“Me? What the hell am I supposed to do?”

 

Zoro spits out a curse and rips his bandana off, using the cloth as an added layer to press to the wound. Sanji coughs and blood comes out, then his head is reeling back and Nami is screaming and Usopp is crying and Vivi comes around to catch Sanji.

 

Luffy snaps his head to her, an idea coming to life in his head. “Go get Law,” he says gravely.

 

-

 

He had Cyborg have just boarded again when Vivi pelts toward them, wasting no time in grabbing Law’s sleeve and tugging him the way she’d come. “Follow me,” she says, and her words set him on edge.

 

He’s pushed into first the kitchen, and then through the open infirmary door where several of the Strawhats have gathered. He doesn’t have time to process anything before Luffy grabs his shirt and pulls him closer.

 

“You have to fix Sanji,” he growls out, eyes alight with panic. He waves an arm and Law follows it to the bed that now houses Sanji, breathing deep and blood all over his torso.

 

“What?” he chokes out. “Me? How?”

 

“However you want, just hurry! He got shot, he’s  _ bleeding out _ !”

 

He shakes his head. “I can’t just -I don’t know what to do!”

 

And then Luffy’s eyes are fire, and his hand tightens and then Law’s slammed back into the wall. “Yes, you  _ do _ !” he yells. “You’re a doctor! Just do the damn surgery!” He shoves Law towards the bed, towards Sanji, who’s breaths have turned labored.

 

He stares at the blonde, but he’s still at a total loss. Another second passes, then Luffy snags one of his hands and holds it out. “You ate a devil fruit,” he tells him. “You use it to heal people. But even without it, you’re a doctor. And I don’t have time for your bullshit amnesia, I’m not losing another member of my crew!” Luffy’s spitting mad by the end, and Zoro comes around to tug him away, giving Law space.

 

He’s breathing heavy by this point, everything rushing past. He had a devil fruit. How did it work? Damn,  _ damn _ , why couldn’t he remember-

 

Sanji coughs up blood and Law’s attention is on him instead of Luffy’s yelling and the others crying and all the chaos around him. It all becomes background noise, and he focuses on his breathing, then on his hand, still prone over Sanji’s body.

 

Maybe . . he could think this through. Maybe it would come back. First he had to figure out where the bullet was, so he rips open Sanji’s suit jacket and dress shirt. The entry hole is clear as day, right near the sternum, so that was one step down.

 

Next he . . he needed to remove it. Okay, so a scalpel? A knife at least. No, no, before that he needed gloves. He leans over the bed, putting a knee on the mattress, and it really wasn’t very stable, he needed a more sturdy surface, he needed an operating room-

 

He stops breathing. That . .

 

His hand moves out in front of him again, and he concentrates. An operating room, an operating room . . .

 

A small sphere envelopes his hand. His breath catches again, but he concentrates, lets it grow bigger, bigger, until a dome covers Law and Sanji and the bed and the space around them, phasing through the wall, even.

 

And then something in his mind snaps back into place.

 

He looks to the nearest person, who happens to be Navigator, and nods at her. “Get me something sharp to work with.”

 

-

 

Law leans back with a huff, satisfied. His legs tremble beneath him, and he’s thankful Long Nose is there before he can collapse. Nami comes closer, looking down at Sanji’s bandaged form, but her eyes have calmed from the worried and terrified they’d been at the start. He’d only allowed those two to stay, since they knew the most about where everything in the infirmary was.

 

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Nami blinks, turning to him. “You literally split his chest in half and plucked out the bullet like it was nothing!”

 

He shakes his head, still trembling. “Not nothing.” Damn, that had taken a lot out of him. Was it usually like this?

 

“Will he be okay?” Long Nose mumbles. Law nods.

 

“Yes.” That he was confident on. Everything was okay now.

 

He glances down at his hands. What a convenient power, the op-op fruit.

 

Sanji is sleeping soundly for the moment, so Law removes his gloves. He’s still a little shaky, but it’s good enough. He can throw everything in the trash and the sink before collapsing onto the desk chair.

 

Long Nose runs off to go tell everyone the good news, and Navigator sinks to her knees beside Sanji, reaching one hand out to cup his cheek. “Thank you,” she says, but it’s mumbled and she’s facing away from him and he’s not fully focused on the present, so he misses it.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said-”

 

“Sanji!” Luffy cries, bursting into the room.

 

“Quiet down!” Law snaps, and Luffy turns to glare at him, but stops after a moment.

 

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He moves closer to Navigator, lowering his voice more. “He sleeping?”

 

She sighs. “Hopefully. Did Usopp not tell you-”

 

“I did!” Long Nose pipes up, slipping into the room, followed by Nico and Zoro. 

 

“Sorry,” Luffy says again.

 

Nami stands again, moving to let the others see Sanji’s stable condition. “Let’s let him alone for a bit,” she suggests. Everyone agrees, but Law shakes her off when she tries and ushers him out.

 

“You need sleep. Or, food, at least.”

 

He shakes his head. “I have to be here, when he wakes up.”

 

She deadpans. “You can afford half an hour away. I’ll even make you something, okay? Free of charge.”

 

He blinks. “You charge?”

 

“In a heartbeat.” She winks. “Come on, Law, let me thank you. I know that couldn’t have been easy. And we should probably talk about . .” She makes a gesture. “What happened.”

 

Right. Rule one. Tell them when he got a memory back. Except this was . . different. More abstract. Still, he sighs, gets to his feet. “Right.”

 

-

 

Navigator makes them some fish, mild, and some rice, which Law appreciates. He doesn’t think he can handle anything stronger yet. As soon as she plates the food, she skips out to the pantry, returning with a couple tangerines that she works on peeling.

 

“You’ve been on bread for a bit, so having some vitamins will do you wonders,” she offers, as a way of explanation. Law chooses not to comment, but does thank her when she sets the slices on the edge of his plate.

 

“So. Spill.”

 

She says this halfway through their meal, and Law swallows his bite before answering. “Right . .”

 

“I don’t . . think it’s anything I can work with. I mean, I can’t explain it.” She raises a brow and he huffs, ruffling his hair. “It’s like, I woke up missing memories, but I could still speak, and walk, and stuff. I just got my medical knowledge back. I don’t know who taught me, or how long I’ve known . .”

 

“Hm. “ She glances around the room for a minute before replying. “Do you remember about your devil fruit?”

 

“Some of its applications. Not how I got it, thought.” He squints. “I think it had something to do with Cora-san, but it’s just a feeling.”

 

They don’t talk again until the food is gone, and Law is munching on his last tangerine slice. “Thanks, Navigator,” he mumbles, and she snaps her head up.

 

“Oh, no. I’m not dealing with your nicknames again. I’m Nami. N-A-M-I. You can forget the rest of the crew’s names, but you better remember mine. Got it?”

 

“Nami. Got it.” He waits until her glare subsides before speaking again. “I . . . did this before?”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, eight years ago. You wouldn’t call any of us by our real names, aside from me and Zoro. I didn’t have it then, and I’m not having it now.” She stands, tapping the band on her wrist. “I gotta go, so we can sail out. We shouldn’t be here for much longer. Who knows what else could happen.” She mutters the last part.

 

Law returns to the infirmary, lighting the lamp in the corner to make up for the waning natural light. He settles back in the dark chair and turns to watch Sanji’s chest rise and fall.

 

What an insane day.

 

-

 

He wakes up and his skin is  _ warm _ and that’s so new that he jumps up immediately, knowing he was no longer in the cave. His eyes move around the small cabin until they land on an elderly man in the corner. Law throws his arms up, ready for a fight, but the sight of the skin all cleared up makes him pause, cough up a little confused noise.

 

“Are you feeling better?”

 

Law lowers his arms to peer at the man. “He knows I’m here, doesn’t he?” he answers, ignoring the question. “How far away is he? He’s coming, right?”

 

The old man sighs. “Listen, kid. I don’t know who you’re talking about, and I don’t care. I’m not loyal to anyone but myself.” He stands up, walking closer to hand Law a mug. He takes it, but only just, and he doesn’t drink. “How did you wind up in that cave?”

 

The mug is warm in his hands. “Why should I tell you?”

 

“Because I’m the one who brought you here.”

 

Law blinks, then he lowers his head, ashamed. “Right. Sorry,” he mumbles. 

 

“I came from Minion island.”

 

“Huh? You mean the place where that pirate incident took place?”

 

He nods, head still lowered. “Y-Yeah.”

 

The man takes a seat again, closer to Law, this time. He reaches out and tugs the fallen blanket back around Law’s shoulders. “You don’t look so good, kid,” he tells him. “Why don’t you stay here for a bit? Unless you have somewhere else to go?”

 

“I . . don’t.”

 

“Okay.” He sticks out a hand. “I’m Wolf. I’m an inventor here on Swallow.”

 

“I’m . . Law.” He doesn’t take the hand.

 

“Law. That’s a fine name.” Wolf reaches out and takes his hand anyway, shaking it. “Well, Law, you’re certainly welcome to stay here. Especially if you’re hiding out from pirates. But! You have to earn your keep. My inventions need testing, and you’d be a perfect tester. What do you say?”

 

Law finally looks up. Wolf didn’t seem malicious. He said he wasn’t loyal to Doflamingo, so that was a plus. And he did need somewhere to stay. He wasn’t going to heal overnight from four years of amber lead. 

 

Cora-san . . . he would say yes, right?

 

So that’s what Law does.

 

-

 

He’s crying, down on his knees. He hasn’t cried in a long, long time, but he can’t help it. The situation now wouldn’t call for anything else.

 

“They’re dead,” he mutters, disbelief marring the words. “They’re all dead.”

 

He clenches the dirt with his fingers, prys out the hard, old earth and tosses it aside. It wasn’t like anything grew there. He digs further, finding a small comfort in the motion. That’s right. It wasn’t like this soil hadn’t been used for years. No one would miss it. Plants couldn’t thrive in it, so it was okay, if he ripped more out, if he let his hands do something, to distract from the fact that they were bandaged and hurting and he was so exhausted and-

 

And they were all  _ dead _ .

 

And it was all Strawhat’s fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that surgery scene has been planned since the very beginning. it's the first point i had listed from my notes for this fic this summer, when i reread op in its entirety in prep for wano. i didn't know who it would be at first, i thought maybe usopp? for the longest time it was him, but his role got repurposed, and when i was writing sanji just . . happened. 
> 
> anyway. finally introducing: your 2018 wutb strawhats!!
> 
> i picked vivi not over the vivre card databooks thing i acknowledge that was in the past, buuut i did pick her bc i decided i wanted to go through with my vivre card subplot, and vivi plays a role in one half, so she's gotta be here!
> 
> i do like carrot tho. carrot for canon SH all the way.
> 
> ALSO i actually drew wutb!vivi bc i got excited when i decided to add her, so you should [look here](http://cheswirl.tumblr.com/post/181565607432) bc there is symbolism you might want to catch before it's revealed, or not ? your choice


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